


Ache

by Lavender_Menace



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting onto Robbie Rotten, Brain Fog, Chronic Pain, Gen, Insomnia, Introspection, Makeup, One Shot, Self-Reflection, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Menace/pseuds/Lavender_Menace
Summary: Robbie Rotten has a difficult night
Relationships: Robbie Rotten & himself
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Ache

**Author's Note:**

> transferred over from my tumblr

It’s one in the morning on Tuesday and Robbie’s knees ache

Sure his back also hurts, and his wrists, and his head–but his knees overshadow all the other hurts with their relentless dull pulsing. No position is comfortable for more than a moment before pain wells up again like dark venous blood oozing slowly from a wound, unstoppable and agonizing. He shifts in his chair again and breathes slowly trying to relax his mind, to better ignore the persistent sensation as if it were a grating background noise. 

It had been nearly an hour and a half since he had turned off the television, kicked off his shoes to try to sleep, if only for a few hours. Robbie needed to sleep, the walls of his lair had started to move in the corners of his vision this afternoon and no amount of coffee had managed to ward off the dizziness. He’s not actually sure that he’s awake now but he’s definitely not asleep either.

-

Its two thirty, and Robbie is standing in his bathroom peering through the grime into his mirror. 

He hasn’t turned on the light yet. The light would almost certainly burn Robbie’s eyes; make the low buzz of his headache pound like a drumbeat. Through the patter of the steadily warming shower his knees continue to ache. He shifts his weight onto his right leg and feels every joint pop in a sick chorus. Slowly the mirror fogs up obscuring the reflection of his face, the last thing that Robbie glimpses before turning to remove his clothes is the hazy image of dark eyes peering through the fog.

-

It’s three in the morning and Robbie Rotten is more conscious now than he has been in twenty four hours. 

He still hasn’t slept but that hardly feels relevant at this point. With his knees drawn up to his chest Robbie sits with his back against the shower wall, warm water running down his bare chest as it pulls some of the ache from his body. Already his head feels lighter. His eyes are open.

Despite everything Robbie’s hands are still steady and he wrings a washcloth out, scrubbing several days’ worth of makeup from his face with deliberate motions. The soap stings his eyes and the raw skin of his cheeks, but his knees feel better. He feels better. He does. 

-

Its four fifteen in the morning and sleep is once again pulling at him, weighing down his limbs with clawed grasping hands. 

Robbie feels as though he’s made of lead. Somehow his mind is still oddly clear.

The towel that he uses to wipe the fog from the mirror is dark purple, and in the hazy florescent light of the bathroom it seems almost too distinct. He looks at himself and feels gray, the man in his reflection is muted and undecorated with slightly curling hair, pale lips, and undefined eyebrows. His eyes are bordered by heavy bags but their pale irises almost blend into the steam. It was unattractive, he thought, and entirely too vulnerable. He looked like an honest man.

-

The sun rose at five thirty in the morning, but Robbie was drinking a cup of coffee and did not see it.

His steady hands were wrapped around warm lilac porcelain, and the sensation was stark against the cool of the underground lair. Even the kitchen was dim and drafty, the metal of his table biting at the skin of his arms in frigid pins and needles. In an attempt to ease the pressure on his joints he’d rested his feet on the opposing chair, and the hard edge of the seat pressed against his ankles. With every sip he was more awake and the grating in his knees seemed to fade.

Robbie feet better. He didn’t feel good or well or even fully alive, but he felt better. Maybe he’d be able to manage a short nap in the park later, while the children were having their lunch.

Surely the sunlight would soothe like the warm water of his shower.


End file.
